


Baby, It's Cold Outside

by HardNoctLife



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Love, M/M, Multi, OT4, One Shot, Polyamory, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Snow, Warm, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 13:34:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21906697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HardNoctLife/pseuds/HardNoctLife
Summary: It may be cold outside, but when you're in a relationship with three other guys, you're always warm.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 20
Kudos: 145
Collections: FFXV Secret Santa 2019





	Baby, It's Cold Outside

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Crazyloststar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazyloststar/gifts).

> This is my gift to @crazyloststar for the FFXV Secret Santa Gift Exchange. Hope you enjoy it! Merry Christmas <3

“I wish you could have snow without the cold,” Prompto says. 

His forehead is currently pressed to the living room window, breath fogging up the otherwise clear glass as he watches fluffy white flakes drift through the gray sky. It’s coming down hard, and has been for the last hour, the sidewalk outside their house no longer visible. Noctis, sprawled languidly on the couch behind him, makes a noise, which could either mean _yeah, me too_ or _that’s weird, but okay_.

“I mean, it’s pretty and all—makes for some _awesome_ pictures—but I’d appreciate it more if I could feel my fingers and toes when I go out in it. I run on sunshine; I’m _solar powered_, if you will.” Grinning, he glances over his shoulder at his best friend and boyfriend, earning one arched eyebrow as Noctis looks up from his phone.

“You burn in the sun,” the prince points out, sitting up.

Throwing the back of one hand across his forehead dramatically, Prompto slides onto the floor and sighs. “Unfortunately, I love the sun more than it loves me. It’s a complicated relationship.”

“Uh-huh,” Noctis chuckles, finally getting to his feet.

Prompto takes a moment to survey the Prince of Lucis with appreciation, his sweatpants sagging low on his hips and long-sleeved shirt two sizes too big (probably stolen from Gladio) bunching around his waist and wrists. He makes his way over to Prompto with a soft smile curling up the corners of his mouth, crouching down so that their noses nearly come to touch. Prompto finds himself holding his breath, although he’s not sure why, heart fluttering beneath his ribs.

“Is it as complicated as _our_ relationship?” Noctis wonders, brushing his lips over Prompto's mouth teasingly.

Prompto exhales slow, shaking his head from side to side. He can’t tear his eyes away from Noctis’s as he answers. “That’s simple. I love you, you love me…_and_ Gladio, _and_ Iggy. And the sun loves all of us, but probably Gladio the most by the looks of it.” _That _earns him a laugh, low and brief, and suddenly the fluttering in Prompto’s chest is a full-on whirlwind. This time, Noctis kisses him properly, unhurried and warm.

“And the snow?” Noctis is still crouched, balancing on the balls of his feet with his arms resting on his thighs. It looks like it would be a difficult position to hold for an extended period of time, but Noctis makes it look effortless. He has a knack for that, Prompto thinks (among other things).

After taking a second to think about it, Prompto says: “I think the snow loves everyone equally, but gets a bad rap because its not warm like the sun. And maybe it’s a little jealous of it, y’know? Because everyone loves to go sunbathing, but you don’t go _snow_bathing. And probably kinda shy too, because mom and dad are gonna get mad the longer you spend in the snow—'you’re gonna catch a cold out there, kids’—but no one says, ‘hey, stop sitting in the sun, it’s _too_ sunny.’ So it’s probably used to getting its hopes up that you’re finally gonna spend time with it, only to have that time cut short, and…” Prompto trails off when he notices that Noctis is staring at him, his smile widening in amusement.

“What?”

“You’ve thought a lot about this, huh?”

Their heads both turn to look at the world outside, icy and brilliant, the sunlight seemingly sucked from the sky only to be reflected in the thick white that is now steadily covering everything. It’s alien and familiar all at once, comfortable despite the chill.

“I think about _us_ a lot.” Prompto is quiet now, and when Noctis looks back to him he doesn’t meet his gaze. “And how one day you might realize I’m not good enough for you. I’m not the sun, like Gladio. And I’m not the rain, like Ignis.”

“How is Ignis is like the rain?” Noctis cocks his head in question, then presses one finger to Prompto’s lips to silence him when he opens it to explain. “Later. Finish what you were saying.” The prince rolls back so that he’s sitting cross-legged, and it gives Prompto the freedom to look up at the ceiling so he can find words.

“I’m the snow. Like, maybe, when you’re a kid, it’s fun and exciting because it means no school or no work, but it doesn’t _do_ anything useful, you know? And as you get older, you grow to hate it because of all the problems it causes. The sun and the rain…they’re necessary for life, and they’re constants, right? You _need _them, and most people enjoy them. _Sure_, snow is pretty, and it can be nice, but it’s also cold and it dangerous. It messes a lot up without even trying—”

Prompto’s breath hitches, and he feels a warm hand find his shoulder through his hoodie and squeeze. “You know what I like most about the snow?” Quietly, Prompto tilts his head back to where Noctis is watching him, expression soft with a patient smile. “Getting warm after being out in it.”

Sliding down onto the floor, Noctis lays so he and Prompto’s heads are next to each other, turning to rub his nose along Prompto’s cheek. When he speaks again, Prompto feels Noctis’s breath along his skin, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Who cares if it’s not ‘necessary’? Everyone still loses their minds over it. No one’s _that_ excited when the sun is out, or if it’s raining—we see it all the time. But the snow? The snow is special. And it’s cool as hell.”

Prompto laughs before burrowing his head into Noctis’s shoulder, already feeling a blush coming on. When he works up the courage to meet Noctis’s eyes again, he is held captive by the strength of his gaze.

“I love snow,” Noctis murmurs.

“…and me?” Noctis presses his forehead to Prompto's with a chuckle.

“Yes, and you. And Gladio, and Ignis.” It’s quiet again for a moment, but there is no tension in the silence this time, only love, and Prompto has the fleeting thought that he could lay there forever.

Another minute passes before Noctis speaks again. “Now, how about we go get warm?” he says, and Prompto feels the smirk against his cheek, Noctis never having turned away.

“I’d like that,” Prompto agrees as he sits up.

Hopping smoothly to his feet, Noctis extends a hand to Prompto, and as the prince leads him out of the living room and down the hall, he never lets go.

* * *

Ignis hears the door bang open from where he is seated in his office, and he pauses in his furious typing—_No, we _cannot_ have alcohol at the Glaive holiday party this year, don’t you remember last year’s fiasco?—_to listen to the tell-tale chattering of teeth and stomping of boots in the foyer.

“Prompto?” he calls, already rising from the leather chair to head towards the front door.

“He-ya—Ig-gy!” comes the broken response.

When Ignis turns the corner, he comes to a stop, surveying where Prompto is shedding layers of clothing into a pile at his feet, body convulsing uncontrollably like he’s having a seizure. It’s actively snowing again, and Ignis can see the aggressive snowflakes swirling outside over Prompto’s shoulder.

Pulling his cotton robe more tightly around him, Ignis pads over to shut the front door, lips pursing into a frown at the redness of Prompto’s face. Ignis notices the white clumps clinging to the end of the Prompto’s eyelashes as he cups his hands over his mouth and blows in an attempt to warm them, and Ignis's frown deepens.

“Darling, where are your gloves?” Ignis takes Prompto’s hands in his, making an effort not to flinch at the sudden shock to his own warm skin.

“F-forgot ‘em,” Prompto admits, stepping in close to Ignis as he makes a sound of relief. Ignis braces himself as he pulls Prompto against his chest, absorbing the chill damp of his body with a shiver.

“You’re absolutely freezing. Come sit down and I’ll make you some tea.” It’s not a suggestion, so Prompto follows Ignis into the kitchen where he is forced down into a chair with a gentle shove. Ignis sweeps out of the room and returns with a comforter mere seconds later, which he then wraps around the Prompto so tightly that he can barely move his arms. Prompto thinks he would protest, except he still can’t feel his face which makes talking hard, so he just burrows down into the soft folds of the blanket and sighs heavily, curling and uncurling his fingers as sensation returns to them in painful waves of throbbing heat.

He watches Ignis flit around the kitchen with practiced precision, and within a few minutes his brain has thawed enough to notice that the man is wearing the moogle slippers Prompto bought for him for last year’s Winter Solstice. It makes him smile despite how miserable he feels.

It is not much later that Ignis has a mug of steaming liquid pressed into Prompto’s hands, and he inhales the steam that curls around his face as Ignis watches with his eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Noctis and Gladio should be home soon, they ran out to the store. Do be more careful in the future, won’t you? Can’t have you catching a cold.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Iggy,” Prompto says as he takes a careful sip of the tea. It’s chamomile with honey and lemon, and it tastes like he’s not going to move for the foreseeable future.

Ignis bends down to press his lips to Prompto’s forehead before gently raking his finger’s through his hair. “I’ll get started on dinner. You focus on getting warmed up.”

“Yes sir,” he chirps enthusiastically. But, Ignis doesn’t move away. Instead, his hand slides down to Prompto’s neck and begins to gently knead the muscles that have grown taut. Prompto groans, allowing his head to loll back in appreciation while closing his eyes. “Oh, man, don’t stop.” Ignis chuckles, leaving the obvious joke unsaid as he massages his shoulders, applying firm pressure.

“Noct better give you a raise,” Prompto mutters as he feels his body relaxing.

Ignis laughs at that, the sound echoing off the kitchen tile. “Oh, he pays me in his own way,” he comments slyly, then adds: “Perhaps once I’m done prepping for our meal, we can partake in dessert a little early.” Ignis’s next kiss is more sultry than the first, lips lingering over the pulse that thrums in Prompto’s neck, and it sends heat shooting from his head to toes, more effective than the blanket and the tea combined.

* * *

Prompto’s legs are moving as fast as they can without breaking into a run, gloved hands shoved under his armpits to add an extra layer of protection against the cold. Gladio is walking beside him, taking one step for every two of his, the methodical crunch of snow beneath their boots intermingling with the sounds of the city that never sleeps.

“Do we have to walk?” Prompto groans. His shoulders are bunched around his ears, teeth clenched to keep them from chattering. Gladio, on the other hand, doesn’t look bothered by the cold at all, posture just as relaxed and sure as it always is.

“Ignis is in the middle of making dinner, and the princess is sleeping off whatever he managed to come down with.” Gladio looks amused when Prompto pulls up the collar of his jacket, burying his nose into the thick fabric of his uniform. “Sure, we could call a car, but then we wouldn’t get any alone time,” he adds casually. Prompto glances up at that, smiling a little despite how it makes his face hurt. Gladio smiles back. “_And_ you could use the exercise.”

“_Hey_!” Prompto punches Gladio in the shoulder a little harder than usual, and it is essentially the equivalent of punching a slightly softer brick wall. Gladio laughs when Prompto winces and pulls back, shaking his hand vigorously in an attempt to lessen the sting.

“It’s not that far, maybe another mile or so. We could race if you want to. _That’d_ warm you up,” Gladio suggests.

Under more favorable circumstances, Prompto would have jumped at the chance to run with Gladio, but he’s lost sensation in most of his muscles, and just the thought of trying to plow through the snow on the sidewalk makes his body ache.

“Just leave me alone to die,” he jokes, leaning heavily against Gladio so that the man is pushed sideways. Chuckling, Gladio stops to regain his balance, but instead of continuing on, he begins to unbutton his coat. “What are you doing?” Prompto asks in alarm, and he looks around to see if anyone else is seeing what he’s seeing, but there are no other pedestrians crazy enough to be out in these freezing temperatures—only them.

“Relax, blondie,” Gladio instructs in his deep baritone. Shrugging out of his Kingsglaive jacket, Gladio drapes it over Prompto, and it’s so large that it scrapes the ground behind him like a cape.

“Wha—aren’t you _cold_?” Prompto asks, shivering from the warmth that suddenly envelops him. The man answers with a shrug, now only in a vest and long sleeve under-shirt.

“I’ve got plenty of muscle to keep me warm. Come on.” Taking one strong hand and pressing it between Prompto’s shoulder blades, Gladio guides him forward, towards home.

They walk without speaking for a few minutes, Prompto begrudgingly accepting that he feels significantly better. He sneaks peeks at Gladio on occasion, trying to look for any signs that he might be cold, but he maintains his stoic expression without so much as a shudder.

“Hey,” Prompto says suddenly, popping the bubble of companionable silence.

“Hm?” Gladio looks down as Prompto side-steps against him again, this time not moving away.

“Thanks, big guy.”

They turn to face one another, Gladio bending down, Prompto on his tip toes. Prompto likes the way Gladio’s beard scratches along his face when their mouths meet, adding yet another layer to cocoon him with. Sliding arms around his thick torso, Prompto presses a cheek to the man’s chest and sighs contentedly, a cloud of warm air drifting up and dissipating into the night.

“…carry me?” Prompto murmurs. Gladio is laughing, the vibrations reverberating through Prompto’s skull and down his body.

“No chance.”

They’re both laughing now. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.” Even so, Gladio doesn’t push him away as they resume their trek back to the house, elbows linked in an unbreakable bond.

* * *

Early mornings aren’t really Prompto’s thing. They’re _definitely_ not Noct’s, and while Gladio can get up whenever is necessary, if he’s got nowhere to go, he can sleep in until noon. That just leaves Ignis. The royal advisor to the Crown Prince has always been an early riser, and even on the day of the Winter Solstice, he is up like clockwork, preparing for the day’s festivities. Prompto knows this by the smell of coffee that wafts through the house as he blinks his eyes awake, and he takes a moment to inhale it, stretching arms overhead.

It’s snowing again—apparently, it’s the coldest winter in Insomnia to date—and Prompto is not a fan, but it seems appropriate for the Winter Solstice. He watches it from his bed, pulling the covers a little tighter around him before nuzzling into his pillow. A perfect day to stay in bed and do nothing—if only Ignis would let them.

He hears the door creak open, and Prompto pretends to be asleep, hoping that Specs will give him just a few more minutes before the hustle and bustle begins. But the person who crawls into his bed is definitely _not_ Ignis, and Prompto squints one eye open to see a head of dark hair wedge itself under his jaw.

“Noct?” he murmurs, voice groggy.

“It’s cold,” the prince answers. Prompto tenses, swallowing a yelp as he slides icy feet over his bare legs. Noctis grunts, then squirms, settling his limbs around the blond’s body like an octopus’ tentacles. Finally, he comes to stillness, and Prompto exhales the breath he had been holding, sleep pulling them back down into its depths.

It’s not much later when another set of footsteps pads into the room, and at first Prompto thinks he is imagining it. Then, the mattress dips, coils groaning in protest from the weight, and a warm body slides beneath the sheets and behind Prompto and Noctis, strong arms encircling them. Prompto feels the gentle friction of Gladio’s facial hair on his neck and the briefest pressure of lips against his skin.

“Time to get up?” Prompto wonders, tone reluctant even as he drifts in-between dreams.

“Not yet,” Gladio says. So they don’t.

A brushing of fingers through hair causes Prompto’s eyelids to flutter. “Shh, go back to sleep, darling,” comes the accented order. He willingly obeys. Prompto thinks hours could have passed, or maybe just minutes, he’s not sure. What he _does_ know is that there are four bodies now jammed into one tiny bed, and while the world may be cold outside, he’ll never lack for warmth.

Four hearts beat into one as Prompto breathes in, then out; he smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> This author responds to all comments. Feel free to yell at me on Tumblr or Twitter, hard-noct-life and @HardNoctLife respectively.


End file.
